CHAPTER I

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THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE LAZYBONES AND OTHER STORIES

by

MRS. W. J. HAYS

Author of "Princess Idleways"

Illustrated

Harper & Brothers Publishers

New York and London

1884

[Illustration: "GOOD EVENING, MY DEAR PRINCE."]

CONTENTS

THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE LAZYBONES

PHIL'S FAIRIES

FLORIO AND FLORELLA: A CHRISTMAS FAIRY TALE

BOREAS BLUSTER'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT

ILLUSTRATIONS

"Good-evening, my dear Prince" (Frontispiece)

"Approach of the swanlike boat"

"Look! There's an eagle"

"Making the sturgeon useful"

THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE LAZY BONES

CHAPTER I

Of all the illustrious families who have shone like gems upon the

earth's surface, none have been more distinguished in their way than the

Lazybones family; and were I so disposed I might recount their virtues

and trace their talents from a long-forgotten period. But interesting as

the study might prove, it would be a difficult task, and the attention I

crave for Prince Leo would be spent on his ancestors.

Of princely blood and proud birth, Leo was a youth most simple-minded.

He knew that much was expected of him, and that he was destined to rule;

yet so easily was he satisfied that his greatest happiness was to lie

all day basking in the sun or dawdling through his father's park with

his dog at his heels, the heels themselves in a very down-trodden state

of humility, watching with languid gaze the movements of the world

about him.

And the world just where he lived was very beautiful. On a fertile

plain, surrounded by mountain-peaks of great height, threaded by silver

streams, and so well watered that its vegetation was almost tropical,

was the estate of Leo's father, Prince Morpheus Lazybones. It had been

in the family for ages, and was so rich in timber and mineral resources

that none of its owners had cared to cultivate the land. Timber was cut

sparingly, however, because the market for it was too distant, and the

minerals remained in their native beds for much the same reason.

The family throve, notwithstanding, and were well supplied with all

manner of delicacies, for the servants were many, and there was never a

lack of corn or wine.

Leo was most fair to see. To be sure, his drooping lids half concealed

his azure eyes, and his golden locks sometimes hid his snowy forehead;

but his smile was charming; his face had such an expression of calm

satisfaction, such a patient tranquillity, that his smile was as the

sudden sunshine on a placid lake. It was the smile of the family, an

inherited feature, like the blue hood of a Spanish Don. And then it was

given so freely: the beggar would have preferred it to be accompanied

with the jingle of a coin, but as the coin never came and the smile did,

he tried to think that it warmed his heart, though his wallet went

empty.

There were those who said a smile cost nothing, else it would not have

been bestowed. It had a peculiarity of its own which these same critics

also objected to--it nearly always ended in a yawn.

But Leo heard none of these ill-natured remarks, and, if he had, would

not have minded them any more than he did the burs which clung to his

garments as he rambled through the woods. Poor fellow! he would gladly

have shared his coppers with a beggar, but he had none to share.

Morpheus Lazybones never seemed to think his son required anything; so

long as the boy made no demands, surely nothing could be wanting, and

every one knew _he_ was not equal to any exertion. For years he had

lived the life of an invalid, shut up in his room most of the time,

venturing from it only in the sunniest weather, and then with great

caution. He had no particular malady except that he was a poet, but

surely that was burden enough. To have to endure the common sights and

sounds of this earth when one is composing poetry is indeed a trying and

troublesome thing. So Morpheus found it, and therefore he frequently

stayed in bed, and allowed his fancy to rove at its own sweet will.

They lived in what had been a monastery. There had been houses and farms

on the Lazybones property, but the money not being forthcoming for

repairs, they had been each in turn left for another in better

condition, until the monastery--what was left of it--with its solidly

built walls, offered what seemed to be a permanent home.

Here Morpheus lined a cell with tapestries and books, and wrote his

sonnets. Here Leo slept and ate, and housed his dogs. The servants

grumbled at the damp and mould, but made the chimneys roar with blazing

logs, and held many a merry carousal where the old monks had prayed and

fasted. The more devout ones rebuked these proceedings, and said they

were enough to provoke a visit from the Evil One; but as yet the warning

had no effect, as the revels went on as usual.

Besides being a poet, Morpheus was conducting Leo's education.

Undertaken in the common way, this might have interfered with the

delicate modes of thought required for the production of poems, but the

Lazybones were never without ingenuity. Morpheus so arranged matters

that Leo could study without damage to his father's poems. The books

were marked for a month's study, and Leo's recitations consisted of a

written essay which was to comprise all the knowledge acquired in that

time. Thus writing and spelling were included, and made to do duty for

the higher flights of his mind.

I do not tell how often Leo made his returns, neither do I mention how

many papers Morpheus found no time to examine, but I may urge that Leo's

out-door exercise demanded much attention, and that his father's

excursions in Dream-land were equally exacting. But Leo, though he hated

books, did not hate information. He knew every feathered thing by name

as far as he could see it. He knew every oak and pine and fir and nut

tree as a familiar friend. He knew every rivulet, every ravine, every

rabbit-burrow. The streams seemed to him as melodious as the song-birds,

and the winds had voices. He knew where to find the first blossom of

spring and the latest of autumn, the ripest fruit and most abundant

vines. He could tell just where the nests were and the number of eggs,

whether of the robin or the waterfowl. He knew the sunniest bank and

shadiest dell, the smoothest path, with its carpet of pine-needles and

fringe of fern, or the roughest crag and darkest abyss. He could read

the clouds like an open page, and predict fine weather or the coming

storm. He knew where the deer couched and where they came to drink, and

when the fawns would leave their mothers, and no trout was too cunning

for him.

But he did not know the use of a rifle. He had all sorts of lures for

the creatures he wanted to tame, but no ways of killing them. For why

should he kill them? There was always food enough; he was seldom hungry,

and these were his friends. He liked to look them in the eyes; he liked

to win them to him, soothe their fears if they had any, and then watch

their pretty joy when their liberty was regained. And how could he have

done this if their blood had been upon his hands? How could he have

quieted the throbbing little hearts if murder had been in his own?

Thus Leo spent his time, delightfully and innocently. If life were only

a summer's day! But already winter was approaching. Discontent was

brewing on the estate. Taxes were unpaid; tenants were grumbling at high

rents; laborers were threatening and their wives complaining.

Frequently, in the very midst of composing a poem, Morpheus would be

called to adjust a difficulty, settle a dispute, or revise an account.

This so disturbed his delicate nerves that illness, or the appearance of

it, was sure to follow. He would then take to his bed, refuse all but a

little spiced wine, allowing no coarse food to pass his lips, and strive

to remember the beautiful words of which he had intended to make verses;

but, alas! the words had flown, as well as the ideas which had suggested

them, like so many giddy little butterflies.

CHAPTER II

The monastery had been a grand old pile in its day; it was not one

simple building, but a cluster of habitations which had grown with the

growth and resources of the order which founded it. Like all feudal

structures it had its means of defence--its moat and drawbridge, its

tower of observation, and in its heavy gates and thick walls loop-holes

and embrasures for weapons.

But grass grew now in the moat and birds nested in the embrasures, while

Leo's dogs bounded through chapel and refectory and cloister, parts of

the latter being converted into a stable.

Many of the walls had tumbled in hopeless confusion, but those of the

buildings yet in use had carved buttresses and mullioned windows, on

which much skill had been displayed.

Leo knew, or thought he knew, every nook and cranny of his home, for

when it rained, or heavy fogs hung threateningly about, his rambles were

confined to the various quarters of the monastery.

On such days the stone floors and bare walls were very inhospitable,

but he would sometimes find a new passage to loiter in or a window-ledge

to loll over and look from as he watched the rain drip from the carved

nose of an ugly old monk whose head adorned the water-spout.

I don't know whether it ever occurred to Leo that this world is a busy

one. The very persistence of the pouring rain might have suggested it,

as well as the beehives down in the kitchen court, where some of his

many friends were storing their winter provision, for bees as well as

birds were familiar to him; but he had the true Lazybones instinct of

not following a thought too far, and so he looked and lolled and yawned,

wishing for fine weather, for a new lining to his ragged old coat, or

soles to his slipshod shoes, but never once supposing that any effort of

his own could gain them.

When it was cold the kitchen was apt to be his resort. It was a long and

low apartment on the ground-floor, and its wide fireplace, with stone

settle beside the hooks and cranes for pots and kettles, had doubtless

been as cheery a corner for the old monks to warm their toes after a

foraging expedition as it was for Leo, who liked to smell the savory

stews.

On the day of which I write the rain had fallen incessantly, and Leo had

been more than usually disturbed by it, for cold and dreary though it

was, the servants had turned him out of the kitchen. They would not have

him there.

"Idle, worthless fellow!" said the cook; "he lolls about as a spy upon

us, to repeat to the master every word he hears."

This was quite untrue and unjust, for Leo rarely conversed with his

father, and seldom saw him since Morpheus took his meals as well as his

woes to bed with him, as he had done at the present moment.

But the household was in revolt; the uneasiness from outside had crept

within, and there was quarrelling among the servants.

"What shall I do?" said Leo to himself. "The rain is too heavy, or I

would go out in it; but I have no place to get dry when I become soaked,

and I can't go to bed in the daytime, as my father does. I wonder what

he'd say if I went to him? Probably this: 'You have given wings to the

finest of rhymes, and spoiled the turn of an exquisite verse; now, sir,

what atonement can you make for so great an injury? It's the world's

loss, remember.' That's the way it always is when I disturb him.

Heigh-ho! what a dull day!"

"A very dull day indeed, your highness."

Leo started, his yawn ending abruptly, and he turned more quickly than

he had ever done in his life towards the sound which saluted him. Surely

he had been alone. Who ever came to this corridor? He looked up and down

its dingy length, but saw no one. He must have been mistaken. Then he

listened. The wind swept wailing through its accustomed approaches;

shutters and windows shook with the blast, but no footfall was to be

heard. He turned to the diamond-paned lattice, and again watched the

drops trickling from the nose of the water-spout. No one had spoken.

Again he yawned prodigiously, but brought his jaws together with a snap

which might have damaged his teeth; for, to his great surprise, a voice

said,

"I think I could amuse you."

"And pray who are you?" asked Leo, feeling very queer, and as if he were

talking to himself.

"That is of little consequence, so long as I do what I have proposed,"

was the reply.

"Very true," said Leo; "but I never before heard of a ghost in the

daytime."

"I am no ghost, your highness; I'd scorn to be such a useless thing."

"What are you, then, and where are you?"

"You will find out what I am after a while; and as to where I am, why, I

am here beside you. Do you suppose you human beings have all the world

to yourselves?"

"Not quite, to be sure; the birds and beasts have their share. But one

can see them."

"So could you see me if your vision were not imperfect. How about all

the living things you swallow every time you drink?"

"I have heard of something of the kind, but it was too much trouble to

understand it."

"Poor boy! It's a pity some old ghost of a monk could not interest

himself in your education; but, as I said before, ghosts are absurdly

useless, except to scare people whose consciences are bad, and nothing

more is needed to make me doubt their existence than the fact of your

living here in what should be their stronghold, and they never raise

hand or foot to help you. It's quite in keeping with their ridiculous

pretensions. Believe in ghosts? No, I never did, and I never will."

The voice, small and weak though it was, grew quite angry in tone, and

it seemed to Leo as if it were accompanied by the stamp of a foot; but

he saw nothing, not so much as a spider crawling over the stone

corridor.

It was very peculiar. He pinched himself to see if he was awake. Yes,

wide-awake, no doubt of that; besides, he seldom dreamed--indeed, never,

unless his foot had slipped in climbing a crag to peep into a nest, when

the fall was sometimes repeated in his sleep. Who was this speaking to

him? As if in answer to his thoughts, the voice went on:

"So far from being a good-for-nothing old ghost, I am one of the

founders of the S.P.C.C., a very old society--much older than people of

the present day imagine."

Leo was quite ashamed to be so ignorant, but he ventured to ask,

"What is the S.P.C.C.?"

"Is it possible you have never heard of it?"

"Never," replied Leo, still feeling as if he were talking to the walls.

There was a queer little gurgling "Ha! ha!" which was at once

suppressed.

"Well, how could you know away off in this remote region?"

"I am sure I don't understand you at all," said Leo.

"No, I see you don't; and it's by no means remarkable. You live so

entirely alone, and are so wretchedly neglected, that it is a wonder you

know anything."

Leo began to be angry, but it was too much of an effort; besides, what

was there to be angry at--a voice? So he remained sulkily silent until

the voice resumed, in a changed tone:

"I beg your highness's pardon; I quite forgot myself. I am very apt to

do that when I am much interested; it is a great fault, for I appreciate

fine manners. But to explain. In the faraway cities where people live

like ants in an ant-hill, all crowded together, there is often much

cruelty and oppression, as well as vice and poverty. Now for this state

of things they have laws and punishments, means of redress; but they

relate principally to grown people's affairs; so the kind-hearted ones,

noticing that little children are often in need of pity and care and

protection, have an association called the Society for the Prevention of

Cruelty to Children. It is as old as the hills, but they think it a

modern invention. I am one of the original founders of that society,

little as they know me; but human beings are _so_ vain."

"Indeed!" said Leo, lazily; he was already tired of the whole matter.

"Yes, vain and pretentious. Look at your father and his poems; he thinks

his doggerel verses a mark of genius."

"What has my father done to you that you attack him so rudely?" asked

Leo, angrily.

"Ah! you are aroused at last. I am glad. What has your father _not_

done, you had better ask. But I acknowledge that I am rude, and I won't

say more than just this: Your father has failed to prepare you for your

duties. Trouble is coming, and how are you to meet it?"

"Don't know, and don't care," came out with characteristic Lazybones

indifference.

"Ah! my dear Prince, do not speak so; it is quite time you knew and

cared. Do you study geography?"

"Sometimes."

"All surface work, I suppose?"

"Probably."

"Now my plan of study comprehends an interior view of the earth's

formation."

Leo gave a tremendous yawn, and said,

"Oh, please don't bother any more; I am awfully tired."

"So I should think. Well, do you want to be amused?"

"No; I don't want anything."

"Come with me, then."

"Where?"

"No matter where; just do as I bid you."

"How can I, when I don't even see you?"

"True. It will be necessary to anoint your eyes; shall I do it?"

"Just as you please."

Leo felt a little pressure forcing down his eyelids, and the pouring of

a drop of cool liquid on each.

When he opened his eyes again there stood before him the quaintest,

queerest being he had ever beheld.

CHAPTER III

Leo had heard of kobolds and gnomes and elves, but in all his wanderings

over the Lazybones estate in the brightness of noon, the dewy dawn, or

dusky eve, or later when the moon bathed every shrub in silver, he had

never so much as caught a glimpse of fairy folk.

Here, however, was a real elf--a most peculiar person. He was extremely

small, thin, and wiry, about two and a half inches high, and his costume

a cross between that of a student or professor and that of a miner, for

on his bushy head was a miner's cap with a lantern, and on his back was

a student's gown, while his thin legs were incased in black silk

stockings, and his feet in rough hobnailed boots. Slung over one

shoulder was a leather bag, and in his hand was a curious sort of a

tool.

"The Master Professor Knops has the honor of saluting Prince Leo

Lazybones," was the way in which this extraordinary person introduced

himself, making at the same time a deep bow and a military salute, but

with no raising of the cap from which the little lantern gleamed with a

bright blue flame. Leo returned the salutation with a lazy grace,

smiling curiously upon the queer little object before him, who proceeded

to say:

"And now let us go; I lead--you follow."

"Forward, then," responded Leo, rising from his lounging attitude.

The elf went nimbly down the corridor, as if accustomed to it, and

paused before a door which led to a flight of stone steps.

"Are you going down cellar?" asked Leo, who knew where the stairs led.

"I am," replied Knops; "but these huge doors and heavy hinges bother me.

Be so good as to open and close them for me. By-the-way, you may get

hungry; shall we find food down here?"

"Perhaps so," said Leo, following, and doing as requested.

They went down step after step, and it was wonderful how much light came

from that little blue flame.

On skipped the elf, his gown puffing out, his nailed boots pattering

over the stones, and Leo found himself quite breathless when they

reached the cellar, so unused was he to any rapidity of movement.

"Suppose we meet some one," said Leo.

"And what have we to fear if we do? No one can see me, and if you are

afraid of a scullion or house-maid you are not the Prince I take you

for. Tut! tut! don't be afraid--come on."

The cellar was damp, and great curtains of cobwebs, like gray lace, fell

over the empty bins and wine-vaults. From a heap of winter vegetables

Leo filled his pockets with apples and turnips.

They came at last to a door which Leo remembered having opened once, but

finding that it led to a passage which was dark, dismal, and unused, he

had not cared to explore it. He now followed the elf through it, but not

without misgivings, for as he groped along he stepped on a round object

which, to his horror when the little blue flame of the elf's lantern

revealed its empty sockets and grinning jaws, proved to be a skull.

Knops turned with a smile when he saw Leo's agitation, and said,

blandly,

"You are not interested in this form of natural history, I see." Then

taking up the skull, he placed it in a crevice of the wall, saying,

"Here is another proof that there are no ghosts about. Do you think any

one would be so careless of his knowledge-box as to leave it to be

kicked around in that way? Oh, those old monks were miserable

house-keepers; the idea of stowing away their skeletons so near their

kitchen closets!"

Leo smiled faintly, and went on after Knops, who every once in a while

gave a tap on the walls with his tool, starting the echoes.

"There!" said he, "do you hear that? This is the way we make old houses

haunted. I don't do it for fun, as do the elves of folly. I have a

sensible purpose; but they like nothing better than to frighten people,

and so they make these noises at all hours, and get up reports that a

house is bewitched; but even a common insect like the cricket can do

that, human beings are such ridiculous cowards."

Leo made an effort to assume the courage which he did not feel, and

asked his guide how much farther he intended to lead him.

"Now," said Knops, stopping, and putting on an air of intense gravity,

as if he were about to deliver a lecture, "I must beg you, my dear

Prince, to place perfect confidence in me. I promised not to harm you.

As a member of the S.P.C.C., I am pledged to protect you; besides, you

have no idea how much I am interested in you; this expedition has been

planned entirely for your benefit. Trust me, then, and give yourself

entirely up to my control. Ask as many questions as you wish, provided

they are useful ones. Just say, without ceremony, 'Knops, why is this?

or, Knops, what is that?' and I, in return, if you will be so good as to

allow me, will say, frankly, 'Leo, this is this,' or 'that is that.' But

here is the entrance to our habitations. You will have to stoop a

little." Striking again with his tool, a panel slid open in the wall,

through which they crept.

It was still dark, but the air had changed greatly; instead of the musty

dampness of a vault, there was a soft warmth, which was fragrant and

spicy, and a beam as of moonlight began to illuminate the passage, which

broadened until they stood at its termination, when Leo found himself on

a ledge or gallery of rock, which was but one of many in the vast cavern

which opened before them.

On its floor was burning an immense bonfire, which flashed and flamed,

and around which was a bevy of dwarfs, shovelling on fuel from huge

heaps of sandal-wood. Every gallery swarmed with elves and dwarfs in all

sorts of odd costumes, but all bore little lanterns in their caps, and

tools in their hands. Some were hammering at great bowlders, others with

picks were working in passages similar to the one Leo had left, and

others seemed to be turning lathes, sharpening knives, cutting and

polishing heaps of brilliant stones. Every once in a while a party of

queer little creatures much smaller than Knops would trundle in

wheelbarrows full of rough pebbles, and dumping them down before those

employed in cutting and polishing, would be off again in a jiffy for

another load.

Leo was so astonished that he stood perfectly silent, gazing now at the

flashing fire which reflected from all sides of the brilliant quartz of

the cavern, and now at the tier upon tier of galleries full of busy

little people.

"This is one of our workshops," said Knops, "but not the most important.

Now that you have rested a moment I will take you to that."

Line upon line of red and green in rubies and emeralds were at the base

of the grotto, and then he found that the emeralds sprang up into long

grasses, and the rubies into flaming roses, and on slender spears were

lilies of pearls and daisies of diamonds, and blending with these were

vines of honeysuckle and strawberries, gleaming with sapphires and topaz

and amethysts, wreathing and flashing up to a ceiling of lapis lazuli

blue as a June sky. The floor was a mosaic of turquoise forget-me-nots

on a turf of Egyptian jasper.

When Leo had looked at all this bewildering beauty, Knops pushed open

the mica door again, and they began to traverse the galleries of the

rock cavern. He was surprised that none of the elves noticed him, nor

even looked at him, and he asked Knops the reason.

"I have rendered you invisible to them, my dear Leo, for two reasons:

one is that you may be undisturbed in your examination of their work,

and the other is that they may not be interrupted; for of course your

presence would be a source of lively interest to them, and yet any

stoppage of work would necessitate punishment."

"Punishment?" repeated Leo, questioningly.

"Oh yes; most of our hardest workers are elves of mischief and it is

only by keeping them thus constantly employed that we prevent disorder.

You have no idea what pranks they play."

"And what is your authority among them?" asked Leo.

"I am one of our King's cabinet; my title is Master Professor. My

learning qualifies me to decide upon the plans of work, where to search

for precious stones, and how best to prepare them for man's finding.

Nothing is more amusing than the wonder and surprise men exhibit at what

they consider their discoveries of minerals and gems, when for ages we

have been arranging them for their clumsy hands."

"How do you do this?"

"Ah! it's a long story. Here you see the result of our long searches,

and were it not for the processes we conduct none of these stones would

ever be found. We can penetrate where man has never been; we can

construct what man has in vain tried to do. Come with me to our

diamond-room: we do not make many, preferring to find them; but as an

interesting scientific experiment we have always liked to test our

ability."

So saying, Knops turned down a little lane lighted by what looked like

small globes of white fire.

"Electric light," said Knops, with a gesture of disdain, as he saw Leo

blinking with wonder--"the commonest sort of a blaze; and yet men have

nearly addled their brains over it, while we made it boil our kettles.

It's the simplest and cheapest fuel one can have; but having utilized it

so long, I am on the lookout for something new. Here, this is the way;"

and again he opened a mica door.

CHAPTER IV

Blow-pipes and retorts, crucibles and jars, porcelain and glass vessels,

of all odd sorts and shapes, confronted them on tables and shelves, and

seated before small furnaces, with gauze protectors for their faces and

metal ones for their knees, and queer little rubber gloves for their

hands, were the very queerest of all the elves Leo had yet seen. They

were thinner and much less muscular than the miners and stone-polishers,

with eyes too large and legs too small for their bodies, so that they

resembled nothing so much as spiders.

"See how in the pursuit of the beautiful one can lose all beauty," said

Knops, confidentially.

"How hot it is here!" said Leo, gasping for breath.

"Yes, my dear fellow, there's no doubt of that; the heat is tremendous.

Now some of your thermometers go no higher than one hundred and thirty,

while ours can ascend to three and four hundred; that is, for the common

air of our dwellings. Of course the heat demanded by many of our

experiments is practically incalculable; for instance--"

"Oh, get me out of this!" entreated Leo.

"Here, step into this niche, put your mouth to this opening"--and Knops

pointed to one of many silver tubes which projected near them--"now

breathe. Is not that refreshing?"

"Yes," said Leo, reviving, as he took a long draught of fresh cool air.

"How do your people endure such heat?"

"They are used to it; besides, they can come to these little tubes, as

you have done, whenever they please."

"Where does this air come from?"

"It is pure oxygen; we manufacture it, and here is a lump of pure

carbon which we also manufacture," and he laid in Leo's hand what looked

like a drop of dew. It was a diamond of exquisite lustre.

As Leo looked with surprise and admiration at it, an elf came staggering

up to the niche. After breathing the oxygen he turned to Knops with a

heart-rending cry.

"I have lost it--lost it, Master Knops."

"Lost what, Paz?"

"The finest stone I ever made, and I have been years at it."

"How did that happen?"

"Burned it too long--look!" and he produced in his spidery hand a small

mass of charcoal.

"Never mind, Paz; better luck next time," said Knops, kindly.

"No, I am no longer fit for the profession; such a mistake is

inexcusable. I cannot hold up my head among the others. I meant that

diamond for our King's tiara or the Queen's necklace--bah! Please,

Master Professor, put me among the miners, or take me for your valet. I

care not what I do."

"You are depressed just now; wait awhile."

"No, I must go. I have broken my crucible and put out my furnace. I

will not stay to be scorned."

"Come with me, then, and I will see what I can do for you."

"He may be useful to us," said Knops to Leo, adding, "we never allow

these diamonds to be put in the quartz beds; they are all reserved for

our own particular uses. It takes so long a time to make them that only

elves of great patience and a certain quiet habit of mind are trained to

the task. Look!"

He pointed towards what appeared to be a glittering cobweb hanging from

a projection on the wall. It was composed of silver wires, on which were

strung numbers of small but most exquisite gems, each of which sparkled

and flashed with its imprisoned light.

"In the same way," he resumed, "all the pearls we use are of our own

cultivation, if I may use the term. We secure the oysters and insert

small objects within the shells, generally a seed-pearl of insignificant

size, leaving it to be worked upon by the living fish; when enough time

for the incrustation has elapsed we find our pearls grown to a

remarkable size, of rarest beauty and value. These processes are not

unknown to man, but men are so clumsy that they seldom succeed in

perfecting them."

Leo by this time was quite exhausted both by what he had seen and by

what he had heard, and he begged Knops to allow him to rest.

"Certainly, certainly, my dear," said Knops. "Pardon me for wearying

you. I am more scientific than hospitable. Come to our sleeping

apartment. I think I shall allow Paz to see you, for, as he is so

unhappy, it will divert him to serve you while you remain with us, and

perhaps, too, he can suggest something suitable for your food. I ought

to have thought of this before."

Leo had, with three or four bites, disposed of an apple, and had already

begun on a turnip, when Knops, giving Paz a peculiar sign, the spidery

little fellow reached up and snatched the turnip from Leo's hand.

"What's the matter now?" asked Leo, too tired to regain it, easily as he

could have done so.

"I can't see anybody eat such wretched stuff as that; wait till I cook

it," said Paz.

"Well, Paz, I am glad you can help me out of my difficulty," said Knops.

"I really am puzzled what to do for Prince Leo's hunger. My breakfast

is a wren's egg; for dinner, a sardine with a slice of mushroom is

enough for four of us; for supper, a pickled mouse tongue. How long

could you live on such fare, Leo?"

"Not long, I fear."

"So I supposed. Well, here is the dormitory; by pushing up a dozen or

more beds, you can stretch out awhile. Meanwhile I can attend to some

professional duties, after I have despatched Paz for your food. What are

you going to do with that turnip, Paz?"

"An elf who can make diamonds from charcoal can perhaps produce

beefsteak from a turnip," said Leo.

"Ah! don't remind me of my bitter humiliation, kind sir," said Paz, in a

sad tone. "I will do what I can for you. Do you like soup?"

"Immensely."

"And roast quail?"

"Delicious!"

"Apple tart?"

"Nothing better."

"Adieu, then, for an hour."

Knops too departed, leaving Leo to look about him, with curious eyes,

upon rows of little beds, each with a scarlet blanket, and each having

its pitcher and basin conveniently at hand. But he soon was fast asleep.

While all this was happening to Leo, at the monastery there was great

confusion. The servants had gone in a body to Prince Morpheus's bedroom

to demand their wages. With tearful eyes and wailing voice he had

protested that he had no money, that his life was hanging by a thread,

and that his brain was on fire. They loudly urged their claims,

declaring they would instantly leave the premises unless they were paid.

As they could not get a satisfactory reply from their master, who hid

his eyes at the sight of their angry faces, and put his fingers in his

ears to keep out their noisy voices, they concluded to go; so, packing

their boxes and bags, and pressing the mules and oxen into their

service, they one by one went off to the nearest village.

One old woman, who had never known any other home, alone remained, and

when the storm subsided and the house was quiet, Morpheus, being

hungry, crawled down to the kitchen fire to find her boiling porridge.

"Where is my son?" asked Morpheus.

The old woman was deaf, and only muttered, "Gone--all gone."

"Alas! and has my son also deserted his father?" cried Morpheus.

The old woman nodded, partly with the palsy, and partly because she knew

of nothing to say. Morpheus smote his forehead with a tragic gesture,

and allowed himself to fall--gently--upon the floor. When he had

remained in an apparent swoon long enough he was revived by some hot

porridge being poured down his throat, and his hair and hands sprinkled

with vinegar. Rousing himself as if with great effort, but really with

great ease, he stood up, and finding the kitchen warmer than his cell,

concluded to remain there; but the old woman was too stiff with

rheumatism to wait upon him, so he had to ladle out his own portion of

porridge, get his books and candle for himself, and finally bring in

some fagots for the fire.

When he sat down to study he found himself in a more cheerful mood than

he had been in for many a day, though he could not help wondering what

had become of Leo. As he went on thinking where the boy could be he was

inspired to write what he called a sonnet upon the subject. Here it is:

"My boy has fled his father's home,

No more he treads these halls;

In vain my voice invokes his name,

In vain my tears, my calls.

The night winds sigh, the owlets cry,

The moon's pale light appears,

The stars are shivering in the sky--

I tremble at my fears.

Has then the Knight of Shadowy Dread

My Leo forced away

From his fond parent's loving heart

In Death's grim halls astray?

I bow reluctant to my fate;

'Tis mine to weep and mine to wait!"

He counted the lines over carefully; the eighth and tenth seemed short,

but it scanned after a fashion. On the whole it suited him, and was

rather better done than many of his verses, so with soothed nerves he

sought his pillow.

The old woman had slumbered all the evening in her chair. Indeed her

snoring had been even and regular enough to act as a measure in marking

the time for the musical cadences of the sonnet.

Morpheus, having a pretty good appetite, ate some bread and cheese and

drank some ale before retiring.

CHAPTER V

Leo was awakened by being rudely jostled about and tumbled upon the

floor. When he opened his eyes the cause was apparent. The elves had

found their beds in disorder, and not being able to see him, had, in

their efforts to restore order, pitched him out. Hardly had Leo reached

the floor when in came Paz to the rescue.

"I beg your pardon, sir, for being so long absent," he said, "but the

hunters had not come in with any game, and the cooks had use for all the

skillets, so that I was obliged to go to the laboratory for a vessel

large enough to hold your turnip. Soup is made in great quantities for

our work-people, and by adding a few sauces I hope I have made it so

that it will please you. If you come with me now I think you may relish

your meal."

Leo followed Paz to a small cavern hung with a velvety gray moss, on

which were clusters of red berries. A small electric light burned in a

globe of crystal, set in bands of turquoise, and shone upon a table

which, like the bed he had used, was composed of several small ones,

covered with a cloth of crimson plush, over which was again spread a

white fabric of the thinnest texture and edged with lace. On this was

laid a dinner service, so small that it was evidently more for ornament

than use. Plates of crystal were bordered with gems, and jars and cups

of embossed metal glittered with precious stones. He was obliged,

however, to eat his soup from the tureen, and the turnip, now cooked in

a sort of _pate_, was presented on a silver platter. Slices of smoked

rabbit, with salted steaks of prairie-dog, were offered in place of the

quail, which had not come; but Leo, having a fondness for sweets, saw

with wonder one tart made from about a quarter of an apple. This proved

to be such a sweet morsel that he kept Paz running for more until he had

eaten a dozen. No wine was offered, but ices which looked like heaps of

snow with the sun shining on them were dissolving in glass vases, and

water as pure as the dew filled his goblet. Rising refreshed from his

meal Leo met Knops coming towards him. He had exchanged his dress for

what looked like a bathing suit of India rubber.

"Are you rested?" he inquired, kindly.

"Oh yes, very much, and I must thank you and Paz for so good a dinner,"

responded Leo.

"Don't mention it. If I had not acted on the spur of the moment, when

the impulse to amuse you seized me, I would have been better prepared.

We use many things for food which you would disdain, but I might have

secured antelope meat or Rocky Mountain mutton, and by way of rarity

something from Russia or China. Have you ever tasted birds' nests."

"Never."

"But I suppose you know why they are thought so great a delicacy?"

"No."

"It is merely the gluten with which they are fastened together, so to

speak, by the birds, which renders them agreeable. The Chinese like

rats, and in this we agree with them. Well dressed, stuffed with

chestnuts or olives, and roasted, they are delicious."

Leo made a wry face.

"Ah! you are not cosmopolitan."

"What is that?"

"A citizen of the world, a person free from national prejudices. Ah,

these words are long for you; I will try to be simple: you have not

learned to eat everything that is good."

"But rats are not good; they are vermin."

"Bah! yes, because you let them feed like your hogs on anything. We do

better; we pen them, and give them grain until they are fat and sweet,

and make them eatable."

Leo could not disguise his dislike, so Knops, shrugging his shoulders,

did not attempt any longer to convince him, but said,

"Are you interested in what I have shown you?"

"Certainly I am," said Leo, with more spirit than he had ever put into

words.

"And you care to go on?"

"Very much."

"Prepare then for great exertion. As you are so large it will be

necessary for you to creep through many passages. I am going to take

you to see our water-work. The visit may be tiresome, but I think you

will be repaid. It is generally supposed that giants have greater power

than we. It may be that it is true, but I think it is doubtful. But you

may wonder why I speak now of giants. It is because they have originated

the opinion among men that the great water-falls and cataracts, such as

those of the Nile and Niagara, are entirely of their producing, but we

all know the familiar adage, 'Great oaks from little acorns grow.' I am

going to show you where the little springs and rivulets have their

rise."

Leo's attention had flagged during this speech--he was so unaccustomed

to many words--now his interest revived.

"Do you remember a certain shady spot about half a mile from the

monastery, beneath a group of birch-trees, and overhung with alders?"

asked Knops.

"Do I not, indeed?" responded Leo, eagerly. "It is the sweetest, coolest

water on the estate. The moss around that spring is just like green

velvet. Many a time I have plunged my whole head in it. The birds know

it too, and always come there to drink. I sometimes find four or five of

them dipping in at once; it is a pretty sight to see them bathe; they

throw the water up under their wings until they drip, and then they are

hardly satisfied."

"Well," said Knops, "we have the supplying of that spring."

All the time they had been talking, Knops had been leading the way

through long passages and down steep steps, of which Leo's long legs had

to compass several at a stride.

Now they came to a low tunnel through which Leo had to creep for what

seemed to him miles. Strange to say, the weariness which so often

compelled him to rest or doze seemed to be leaving him. He felt an

altogether new impulse, a desire to explore these recesses, and a great

respect for Knops's learning also made him desirous of conversation,

which was something he had always avoided by answering questions in the

shortest possible way.

The tunnel was not only long and low, but it was dripping with moisture,

and the air oppressive with what seemed to be steam. Leo heard wheezing

and groaning sounds, which, though not frightful, were very peculiar,

and then the thump-thump, as of engines.

Very glad was he when the tunnel opened into another large cavern, at

the bottom of which was a lake. He could not have seen this had it not

been for the electric fluid which blazed like daylight from a great

globe overhead. On the margin of the lake were all kinds of hydraulic

machines, small as toys, but of every conceivable form; derricks and

wheels and screws and pumps, and all under the management of busy little

elves, who panted and puffed and tugged at ropes and wheels and pipes as

they worked, and kept up a constant chant not unlike the song of the

wind on a stormy night.

Leo watched them intently. Once in a while one restless little sprite

would turn a hose upon his companions, when the chant would stop long

enough for the rest to dip him head and heels into the lake, which had a

very quieting effect. Leo noticed great numbers of pipes running up the

sides of the cavern in all directions, but Knops soon opened the door of

what he called "the model-room," and here were new wonders displayed.

CHAPTER VI

The model-room of the elves' water-work department was a grotto of

salt--glittering, dazzling, sparkling, and flashing--divided into two

equal parts, or as if a huge shelf had been placed across it.

On the top of the shelf was a tiny park or forest, with all the natural

differences of the ground exactly represented by grasses, plants,

flowers, rocks, and trees, living and growing, but on a scale so small

that Leo was forced to use a microscope to properly enjoy its beauty.

Even the herbage was minute, and the trees no larger than small ferns,

but as his eyes grew accustomed to the glass he was amazed to find the

hills and dales of his home here reproduced in the most familiar manner.

It was truly an exquisite scene. Field upon field dotted with daisies,

woodland as dense and wild as untrained nature leaves it, and hill upon

hill clambering over one another, all so minute and yet so real, and

dashing down from the tiny mountains was a stream of foaming water,

winding about and gathering in from all sides other tributary brooks,

so small that they would hardly have floated a good-sized leaf.

And now Leo understood the meaning of it all, as he looked underneath

the shelf where tiny pumps and rams were forcing up the water for this

stream.

Knops touched a spring and set a new series of wheels in motion, when,

instantly, a gushing fountain flowed up in a small stone basin beneath a

rustic cross; then a little lake appeared, on which were sailing small

swans; and finally a rushing, roaring flood started some mill-wheels and

almost threatened destruction to the tiny buildings upon its banks.

"This," said Knops, "shows you how we use the power of our reservoirs,

but it can give you no idea of the immense trouble we have in laying

pipes for great distances. Some of our elves find it so difficult that

they beg for other work, and many run off altogether and live

above-ground, inhabiting the regions of springs and brooks, and so

muddying them and filling them up with weeds that men let them alone,

which is just what they desire."

"Do fish ever clog your pipes?" asked Leo.

"Never. We have none in our lakes; the water is too pure and free from

vegetable matter for fish. It is doubly distilled. Taste it."

Leo took the glass which Knops offered, and confessed he had never

tasted anything more delicious.

"We sometimes force carbonic gas into mineral springs, but that, as well

as the salts considered so beneficial, is left to our chemists to

regulate. Paz, do you know anything about this?"

"Not much, Master Knops. I have seen iron in various forms introduced,

but think that is usually controlled by the earth's formation."

Leo sighed at his own ignorance, and vowed to study up these matters;

but Knops, seeing his look of dejection, asked, "How would you like a

bath?"

"Delightful. Where? Surely not in the lake; it looks so cold and glassy

I should not dare."

"Oh, no, no," laughed Knops. "Do you think I'd let you bathe in a

reservoir? Never! We are too cleanly for that, begging your pardon. Here

is our general bath. It's quite a tub, isn't it?"

"I should think so," said Leo, surveying quite a spacious apartment,

about which were pipes and faucets, clothes-lines and screens.

Here his friend left him, and he was glad to doff his garments for a

plunge. He found that he could make the water hot or cold at will, and

so luxurious was it that he would have stayed in any length of time had

not a crowd of elves come chattering in, and with whoop and scream

surrounded him. Though they could not see him, they were conscious of

some disturbing force in the water, and in an instant a lot of them had

scrambled on his back, and were making a boat of him. They pulled his

hair and his ears unmercifully, and because he swam slowly, with their

weight upon him, they whacked and thumped him like little pirates. But

he had his revenge, for with one turn he tumbled them all off, and

sprang from the bath, leaving them to squirm and squabble by themselves.

Laughing heartily at their antics, he rejoined Knops and Paz, whom he

found poring over some maps spread out before them.

"We have been discussing the length of a journey to the Geysers of

Iceland, also to the hot springs of the Yellowstone, but I am afraid

either would require too much time. Was your bath agreeable?"

"Very," said Leo, describing how he had been pummelled.

"Those were the fellows from the steam-rooms--stokers probably. Rough

enough they are. Do you care to have a glance at them at work?"

"Don't care if I do," said Leo, in his old drawling manner; then,

correcting himself, he added: "If it suits your convenience, I shall be

very happy to take a look."

"That is all it will be, I promise you," said Paz; "the heat is awful."

Leo thought as much when Knops, having tied a respirator over his mouth,

opened another door. Such a cloud of vapor puffed out that he could but

dimly discern what seemed to be a tank of boiling, bubbling water,

resting on a bed of soft coal, about which stark little forms were

dancing and poking with long steel bars until flames leaped out like

tongues of fire.

"Oh," said Leo, as he quickly turned from his place, "how do they endure

it? It is dreadful!"

"They are used to it; they all came from Terra del Fuego," replied

Knops, calmly. "And now, as a contrast to them, look in here."

A hut of solid ice presented itself. Long pendants of ice hung from the

ceiling, snow in masses was being formed into shapes of statue-like

grace by a company of little furry objects whose noses were not even

visible, and others were tracing out, on a broad screen of lace-like

texture, patterns of every star and leaf and flower imaginable.

Leo was so delighted that, although shivering, he could not bear to

leave them, but begged Knops to lend him a wrap.

Taking from a pile of furs in a corner several small garments, Paz

pinned them together and threw them over Leo's shoulders, and as he

continued to watch the beautiful work Knops explained its character.

"This is our place for working out designs for those who are unskilled

in frost-work. Frostwork is something too delicate for human hands, but

in it we excel. Have you never seen on your window-pane of a cold winter

morning the picture of a forest of pines, or sheets of sparkling stars

and crystals? I am sure you have. Well, we do all that work on your

windows, not with artificial snow and ice such as you see here, but by

dexterous management we catch the falling flakes and mould them to our

will, sometimes doing nothing more than spangling a sheet of glass, and

again working out the most elaborate and fantastic marvels of

embroidery. But in art our productions are almost endless. We color the

tiniest blades of grass and beds of strawberry leaves until the moss

upon which they rest look like velvet with floss needlework. We polish

the chestnuts till they appear as if carved of rosewood. We strip

thistles of their prickly coat, and use the down for pillows. The

milk-weed, as it ripens its silken-winged seeds, serves us for many

beautiful purposes. We tint the pebbles of a brook till they compare

with Florentine mosaics. We wreathe and festoon every bare old bowlder

and every niche made barren by the winds. Indeed, the list of our works

would fill a volume."

Leo listened and looked, though his feet were getting numb and his

fingers nearly frozen. Many a time he had seen just such cappings to

gate-posts and projections as were here being moulded, and just such

rows of pearly drops on a gable's edge; but when, as if to specially

please him, the busy workers carved a little snow maid winding a scarf

about her curly locks, he clapped his hands in admiration, making such a

noise that each little Esquimau dropped his tool in alarm.

"Gently! gently!" said Paz and Knops; "they are easily frightened.

Though they do not see you, their instinct is so fine that they can

nearly guess your presence."

"I am sorry if I have frightened them," said Leo. "Can't you say

something to soothe them? Tell them how lovely their things are. I long

to try and imitate them."

Knops said a few words in a language Leo did not comprehend, and the

little people gathered up their trowels again. But it was time to go,

and Leo had to follow his guides and leave the snow people with more

reluctance than anything he had yet seen.

CHAPTER VII

Knops now led Leo through so many places full of machines and

contrivances which the water-power kept active that he was glad when

they went up a long inclined plane, and came out into a wide gallery

lined with mother-of-pearl, and paved with exquisite sea-shells.

Here was a luxurious couch of beautiful feathers, the plumage of birds

he had never beheld, and he was not sorry to see Paz bringing out

another dozen of tarts for his refreshment. As he ate them, he asked of

Knops, who was peeling a lime, "Have you no women and children among

your elves?"

"Oh yes," said Knops, smiling; "but they are not to be found near our

workshops."

"Where, then, do they live?"

Knops put on an air of mystery as he replied: "I am not permitted to

reveal everything concerning us, dear Leo. Our private life is of no

public interest; but I may tell you that our children are bred entirely

in the open air. Many an empty bird's nest is used as an elf cradle, for

so highly do we esteem pure air, sunshine, and exposure as a means of

making our children hardy, that we even accustom them to danger, and let

them, like the birds, face the fury of the weather."

"And do they all work as you do?"

"They do, not at the same employments, nor is all our labor done by

hand, as you might suppose. The songs which you hear are not all sung by

birds or insects, the crying child has often a pretty tale whispered in

his ear to soothe his grief or passion, and your garden roses are

witness to many a worm in the bud choked by the hand of an elf. But we

have many tribes, and the habits of each are different. I do not conceal

that much trouble is made by some of them. But look at the Indians of

North America and the Afghans of Asia."

Leo was yawning again fearfully, when a little "turn, turn, turn," came

to his ears, and as Knops ceased speaking a band of elves, habited as

troubadours in blue and silver, with long white plumes in their velvet

caps, climbed over the balustrade and began to play on zithers.

The music was a gentle tinkle, not unlike a rippling brook, and appeared

to be in honor of Master Knops, who listened with pleased attention, and

dismissed them politely.

Then came a message for Knops. A council was awaiting his presence; so,

leaving Leo to Paz, with promise of a speedy return, he departed.

"How do you get about so fast?" asked Leo. Paz took from his pocket a

tiny pipe, curiously carved from a nut; then he opened a small ivory

box, showing Leo a wad of something which looked like raw cotton

sprinkled with black seeds.

"One whiff of this, as it burns in my pipe, and I can wish myself where

I please."

"Let me have a try," said Leo, taking up the pipe.

Paz smiled. "It would have no more effect upon you than so much

tobacco--not as much, probably, for tobacco makes you deathly sick, does

it not?"

"Yes," said Leo, listlessly, disappointed that he could not go to the

ends of the earth by magic.

Paz noticed the disappointment, and said, by way of diversion, "Where do

you like best to be?"

"At home I like the kitchen," said Leo, with a little shrug.

"Good! Come, then, to one of ours: we can be back by the time Master

Knops returns." So saying, he started off, and Leo followed.

Paz trotted down a winding staircase that made Leo feel as if he were a

corkscrew, and in a little while ushered him into a place where jets of

gas gave a garden-like effect, sprouting as they did from solid rock in

the form of tulips and tiger-lilies, but over each was a wire netting,

and from the netting were suspended shining little copper kettles and

pans of all sorts and shapes.

Busily bending over these was a regiment of cooks, but instead of paper

caps on their heads, each wore a white bonnet of ludicrous form, which

they could tip over so as to shield their faces from the heat. It gave

them a top-heavy appearance which was extremely funny.

In the centre of the kitchen was a long table, before which were seated

a number of elves testing each compound to see if it were properly

prepared, and examining the cooked dishes as they were brought in that

all should be served rightly.

"I had an idea," said Leo, "that elves and fairies lived on rose leaves

and honey, and that you never had to have things cooked."

"The truth is," answered Paz, "we do both; it all depends on what are

our employments, whether we are living in the wild wood or down in

these caverns. I would ask nothing better than to dine off honeysuckle

and a bird's egg, or fill my pockets with gooseberries; but I must adapt

myself to circumstances, and while toiling here have to share the more

solid food provided for us." As he said this he handed Leo a pudding of

about three inches in the round, iced on the top.

Leo swallowed it down with such zest that Paz asked him to dispense with

ceremony, and help himself to anything he saw. The tasting-table was

full of puffs and tarts, and in a twinkling Leo had eaten two or three

dozen of them. They were really so light and frothy that they were

hardly equal to an ounce of lollypops such as an ordinary child could

devour, but Paz cautioned him, telling him that the sweet was so

concentrated he might have a headache.

While he was doing this, Leo watched with interest the bringing in of

some squirrels and rabbits, skinned and ready to be roasted. It took six

elves to bear the weight of an ordinary meat dish on which these were;

then they trussed and skewered them, and put them in small ovens.

"How do you kill your game?" asked Leo.

"We trap everything, and then have a mode of killing the creatures

which is entirely painless."

By this time Knops would have returned, so Paz hurried Leo off, not,

however, without first filling his pockets with goodies. Up they

clambered, until it seemed as if they might reach the stars by going a

little farther, and now Leo was really so tired that when he sank down

on the feathery couch in the sea-shell corridor he was asleep before he

could explain to Knops the cause of his absence.

He must have slept a very long while--a time quite equal to an ordinary

night, if not longer--for when he awoke he was thoroughly rested and

refreshed, and ready for any exertion he might be called upon to make;

but he found himself entirely alone.

At first this did not affect him, for he supposed his elfin friends had

taken the opportunity to rest themselves, but after minutes lengthened

into hours he began to be uneasy. What should he do if they never came

back? How would he ever find his way out of these caverns? The thought

was frightful, and to relieve his fears he began to call. His calls

became shouts, yells, and yet no answer came; nothing but echoes

responded.

CHAPTER VIII

After a long and impatient listening the echoes of Leo's calls seemed to

prolong themselves into musical strains, which, faint and far away at

first, gradually came nearer and nearer.

Soft as the sighing of the wind was this elfin music, but swelling into

mimic bursts of harmony and clashing of small cymbals.

Leo leaned over the balustrade of the corridor, and gazed down into the

depths of a cavernous abyss. Instantly the space seemed filled with

sprites in every conceivable attire. Some were dressed in the

party-colored habits of court pages, some in royal robes of ermine,

others as shepherds with crooks, and again others as cherubs with gauzy

wings; but all were whirling like snow-flakes to the strains of the

music.

Leo looked in vain for Paz or Knops. Indeed, so many were the fantastic

forms, and so rapidly did they move, that it was like watching a

snow-storm, and this effect was heightened by misty wreaths, upon which

were borne aloft the more radiant members, who danced and flashed as

heat-lightning on the clouds of a summer's night. The light, instead of

being a bright glare, was soft and mellow, and fell from crescent-shaped

lanterns on the staffs of pages, who moved in a measured way among the

throng, producing a kaleidoscopic effect.

Leo watched them with eager eyes. Beautiful as the sight was, he yet was

oppressed with fear, for he knew not how to reveal himself to these

sportive beings, and he could not imagine how he should ever be released

from his imprisonment.

Suddenly the dancers fled as if pursued, the music became martial, and

the steady tramp of a host of elves was heard. They were clad in mail,

with helmets and shields of flashing steel, and armed with glittering

lances; half of them had blue plumes and half had crimson. And now began

their mimic warfare. Ranged line upon line, facing each other, with

shouts and drum beats and bugle blasts, they fell upon each other in the

fury of combat. Swords clashed, javelins were hurled, and the slain fell

in heaps; but still the leaders charged, and still the martial blasts

were heard; and over and over were repeated the manoeuvres of the

advance, the retreat, the parrying of blows, the redoubled ardor of

assault, until Leo's breath came short and hard with the excitement of

the scene. It seemed a veritable battle-field, and to add to the glamour

rays as of moonbeams, shone now and again clouded by the shadows of an

approaching storm.

Gradually the rage of the combatants subsided. Those who were able

withdrew with those of their companions who were disabled, leaving the

prostrate forms of the dead and dying.

And now the music portrayed the rising of the wind, the falling of rain,

the roar of thunder. This was succeeded by low, plaintive strains, as of

people weeping, and a party of elves in the garb of monks headed a

procession bearing lighted tapers and carrying biers, upon which they

placed the inanimate forms of the warriors. Slowly they paced about,

chanting in low tones, and constantly accompanied by the funeral dirge

of the musicians.

And now to Leo's almost overtaxed vision came a picture of a lonely

graveyard in the mountains, where the procession stopped. Even as he

looked it faded away; the sun streamed forth, shining upon a field of

grain where merry reapers swung their scythes and sang with glee. Trees

sprouted from fissures in the rock, birds flew about and perched

undismayed, and little hay-carts, piled high with their loads, came

creaking along, led by peasant elves, who were also seated on top of

their fragrant heaps of hay. Then the sun beamed upon a party of

drovers--elves in smock-frocks or blouses, driving flocks of sheep and

horned cattle, while the bleating of the sheep and the blowing of the

cattle were well imitated by the music. All this was succeeded by

vineyards, grape trellises, and arbors, with busy elves gathering the

fruit which hung in purple clusters, and beneath the arbors other elves

rattling castanets, beating tambourines, and dancing.

Again the scene changed. Snow fell; the birds disappeared; the tree

boughs were glittering with ice, and were bending over a wide field of

the same glassy substance. On it were elves in bright costumes, merrily

skating. They glided about, cutting curious figures, pausing to bend

and bow to each other, or to warm themselves at bonfires blazing on the

banks.

Then night came again, and the darkness was only broken by twinkling

stars. The music became softer and more plaintive; it sounded like

little flutes.

A church tower loomed up, and then a blaze of light issued from its

arched doors. Two by two, in white array, came forth the elves, and from

the floating veils Leo saw that it was meant to represent a bridal

procession. Garlands were on their arms, and ribbons fluttered from

their caps. Roses were strewn in their path.

Again, these were followed by a company of elves in the habit of nuns

and Sisters of Charity. The music became a hymn. The church grew dark

and vanished. The space filled again with shadowy forms, as if all the

little actors had poured in. The sound of their coming was like that of

a bevy of birds with wings fluttering. Suddenly a starry cross appeared;

it flashed and flamed with a light which was as if it were composed of

myriads of gems, and then a clear radiance streamed from it, revealing

the whole multitude of elves kneeling in devotion. This lasted but a

few moments, and again all was still and dark, and Leo was alone.

But he was no longer afraid. His mind was filled with the beautiful

scenes he had witnessed, his imagination stirred to activity. Why might

he not behold these things again as a reality, instead of only a

semblance of it? How grand it would be to travel and see novel and

beautiful sights, to learn also wonderful things! And as he quietly

thought, he heard the click, click of little boots, and Knops was beside

him, followed by Paz. Leo greeted them warmly.

"Did you suppose that we had deserted you?" asked Knops, sitting down by

his side on the couch as if exhausted.

"Yes, I was a little alarmed; it was so strange to find myself alone in

such a place, for of course I had no idea which way to turn or what to

do."

"You were so soundly asleep that I had not the cruelty to disturb you,

and it was necessary for Paz to go with me. From what you have witnessed

you may guess how we have been employed and how much we have had to

detain us; but you may rest assured that nothing would keep me from

finishing what I have undertaken. You have now had a Vision of Life and

a Vision of Labor, for such I call our two pantomimes. Am I wrong in

supposing that they have pleased you?"

"No, indeed," said Leo, quickly, his usual drawl giving place to a tone

of bright animation. "I thank you a thousand times for your

entertainment and instruction. I have been so pleased and delighted that

I can hardly express myself as I ought to do. I am afraid I seem a very

good-for-nothing fellow to you."

"Indeed you do not. Don't suppose I would waste time on a

good-for-naught. Paz can tell you what attracted me to you--can't you,

Paz?"

"Yes, sir; the Prince Leo's kindness of heart is the secret of his power

with us."

Leo blushed as he looked up and asked, "How did you know I was

soft-hearted?"

"By your kindness to animals and all living things. Ah! we are close

observers, are we not, Paz?"

"Necessarily, Master Professor."

"Our powers of observation have revealed to us many of the mysteries

which man longs to solve. There's the Gulf Stream, for instance. But you

are not up in science yet. No matter. You have time enough before you if

you will only apply yourself. Has anything you have seen made you

anxious to know more?"

"Oh, don't mention it!" exclaimed Leo. "I am so awfully ashamed of my

ignorance that I would do anything to get rid of it. I want to know all

about those curious things."

"Good! the seed is sown, Paz," said Knops, complacently, with the

nearest approach to a wink Leo had seen on his grave little countenance.

"Now you must rest again before we start for home."

Leo would have been very willing to do without more rest, remembering

his alarm, but he could not be so selfish as to deprive his companion of

it; so he at once assented, tempted to ask only that he might not be

left quite so long again alone. But fearing this would imply distrust,

and being really no coward, he said nothing. He was relieved, however,

to hear Knops command Paz to remain with him.

CHAPTER IX

Leo tried to go to sleep; but after doing everything he could think of,

such as imagining a flock of sheep jumping a fence, and counting a

hundred backward and forward, he gave it up as useless. All the strange

things he had seen would come back, and his eyelids were like little

spring doors that bobbed open in spite of his attempts to close them. As

they lifted for the hundredth time he saw Paz doubled up in a heap, with

his knees drawn up to his chin, his elbows resting on them, and his face

in his hands. He was intently watching Leo.

"Hallo!" said Leo, "can't you go to sleep either?"

"No need at present."

"Why not?"

"I was going through a formula in D."

"What under the sun is that?"

"Something relating to my pursuits. Don't trouble yourself to try and

find out everything. In my opinion Master Knops has crammed you too

hard. What do you say to my telling you a story or two?"

"Splendid! I'm ready when you are."

"No, you are not; you're hungry. You must have a bite first; what shall

it be? Oh, no matter; I'll get you something if you promise not to ask

any questions."

"All right," said Leo, inwardly cringing at the thought of stuffed

rats.

Paz was gone but a little while. When he came back he was carrying a

basket, from which he produced a small flask of a very sweet, fruity

sirup, a dish of something that looked like little fish swimming in

golden jelly--salt and savory Leo found them--and a sort of salad

garnished with tiny eggs. These were followed by nuts of a peculiar

flavor, and small fruits as exquisite to look at as they were delicious

to taste.

When Leo had done ample justice to all these things Paz looked relieved,

as if he had feared they might not suit.

"Never ate anything better in my life," said Leo.

"I am glad to hear it; tastes differ so. Now these things come from all

parts of the world--the fish from Spain, the eggs from Africa, the nuts

from Italy, the fruits from France, and the sirup from Portugal."

"Oh dear!" said Leo, wondering how their freshness was preserved.

"Yes, I suppose you have no idea of our canning business."

"None in the world."

"I presumed as much," said Paz, wisely, "nor am I going to bore you

with any more information."

Leo looked quite shocked.

"Oh, well," said Paz, profoundly, "there's a limit to all things, and

I'm not a Knops."

"But have you been to all parts of the world?" asked Leo.

"Oh, yes," answered Paz, carelessly. "I have wandered far and wide in my

time. Until I caught the diamond fever I was used as an envoy."

"Indeed!" said Leo, having but a faint idea of what an envoy was. "What

did you do?"

"I went on errands of importance."

"Who for, and where did you go?"

"I was sent generally to carry messages from our King to the Queen of

the Wind Fairies or the Herb Elves, or the Sylphs, sometimes to warn

them of trouble or danger, sometimes to tell them that imps were

rampaging or giants were about to make war, but oftener to inform them

of some plan for assisting man, or some good to be done for a child: in

these things we delight."

"How kind!" said Leo.

"Kindness has so much power, if people only knew it. But you are

waiting; I must not detain you." So, without further preface, thus began

PAZ'S STORY

"It was a time of trouble to mankind--a year of strange events, and yet

so stupid are ordinary mortals--begging your pardon--that none were

making preparations either to meet or to avoid disaster. The King of the

Kobolds had been negotiating with our King for the purchase of some

immense tracts of iron ore, and in the course of conversation said he

had received news from Italy that there would soon be a volcanic

outbreak, that the giants there were quarrelling fiercely, and had not

hesitated to declare that unless matters were arranged to suit them they

would bid Vesuvius pour forth its death-dealing fires.

"Now on the side of that well-known mountain were living some friends of

our King--two children, a girl and a boy, Tessa and Tasso, daughter and

son of an Italian peasant.

"In their little vineyard one day our King's son, an infant, was

swinging in his leafy cradle; it looked like a bird's nest, and so I

suppose they thought it, but a rude playmate of theirs tried to tear it

down from its airy height, and would have succeeded had not both Tessa

and Tasso resolutely opposed him.

"First they sought to make him stop by appealing to his feelings, asking

him how he would like to have his cottage ruined, his home desolated;

but at this he only mocked and jeered. Then they urged that birds had

the same right to live and rear their young as had human beings; which

having no more effect, they openly forbade his attempt, saying that the

ground was theirs, the birds were their friends, and they should defend

them. Blows followed, Tessa and Tasso bearing their part bravely, and

compelling the young ruffian to take himself off. Little did they know

whom they were defending.

"Our King heard of the occurrence, and vowed unending friendship; so

when the King of the Kobolds told him of the danger impending at

Vesuvius I was at once sent for to convey the information, and do what I

could to save the lives of Tessa and Tasso. It took but a whiff of my

pipe to bring me to the desired place, but so calm and bright and

peaceful was the scene that I found it hard to believe in the

threatening evil. Never had I seen a bluer sky reflected in a more

silvery mirror than were the clouds and bay of Naples that day. The

people were merry and careless, tending their cattle, gathering their

fruit, singing their songs, and as indifferent to their old enemy as if

he had never harmed them.

"How should I approach the object of my mission? how put fear into the

hearts of joyous innocence? Their father had bidden them go to the city

with a load of oranges. These were to be conveyed in large baskets, or

panniers, on the back of a faithful donkey. If I could keep them away

from home, delay them by some pretext from returning for at least a day,

I might aid them. So with this determination I proceeded to act.

"At every place or with every person to whom they offered their fruit I

whispered objections, asked if their prices were not very high, or if

the fruit were not picked too early. So well did I succeed that I had

nearly upset my own plans, for poor Tessa, becoming discouraged, wanted

to return home at once, but Tasso stoutly declared he would sell every

orange before going back--that his fruit was good and ripe, and it

should be appreciated. I was pained to see Tessa's tears, but what could

I do? Already thick smoke was pouring down the mountain's side, and so

many were the rumbling sounds that although these children were

accustomed to such disturbances, fears began to assail them.

"They were now well away from home, and had paused at the roadside to

eat their bread-and-cheese. People were becoming unusually numerous.

Excitement was prevailing, and Tessa saw with alarm women and children

hurrying past. At that moment a travelling carriage appeared. One could

see at a glance from its neat compactness that it was English. I put my

head in the window, and whispered something. At once a gray-haired lady

leaned out, and beckoned to Tessa, who tremblingly obeyed.

"'My child,' said the lady, kindly, 'I want some oranges. Can you give

them to me quickly? You know we have no time to spare.'

"'Yes, madame,' said Tessa. 'But what is the matter? You and every one

look so anxious.'

"Instantly, as she spoke, there was a terrible quivering of the earth,

which made every one shudder. The driver could scarcely hold his horses;

they plunged and reared and trembled.

"'Ah! we cannot wait,' said the lady; but seeing the terrified looks of

the children, she paused to ask, 'Are you children alone?'

"'Entirely so, signorina.'

"'And where are you going?'

"'Home, to the mountain.'

"'You cannot go there; it is too late.' Then with a sudden resolution

she turned to the maid beside her. 'We will take them with us; their

load is too heavy for them to get on fast enough. Quick! quick! Leave

your donkey; he is tired; every one is so frightened he will not be

stolen if he escapes. Come in here,' pushing open the carriage door.

"Tessa turned irresolutely to Tasso, who was also uncertain what to do;

but the tone was imperative; they were accustomed to obey. Crowds were

now jostling them; women were crying; children were pushed hither and

thither, their little toys trodden underfoot, more a grievance to them

than the quaking earth. With a regretful glance at the donkey, Tessa and

Tasso jumped into the carriage, which drove away as fast as the

frightened horses could get through the throng. Miles and miles away

they went until the horses could go no farther. Then they stopped for

the night at a little inn overflowing with strangers, where they heard

that Vesuvius was pouring forth lava, and where they could see the lurid

glare of its flames reddening the evening sky. They were saved. My

mission was fulfilled."

Paz stopped; but Leo was unsatisfied.

"And what became of them? Did they ever go home again? Were their father

and mother killed?"

"No; their parents escaped, but their home was buried in ashes. The

children were cared for by the English lady until it was safe to return.

All that was left them was the one poor donkey which, unharmed, strayed

back to the place of its past abode, and with it they began a trade in

lava which proved very remunerative."

"Trade in lava?" repeated Leo, inquisitively.

"Yes; the people pour melted lava in moulds before it cools, and so

fashion ornaments out of it--perhaps they also carve it. I know they

color it beautifully, for I have had to carry bracelets made of it to

various people with whom we are on friendly terms, and they were blue as

a bird's egg or turquoise."

"How curious!"

"No; they were not remarkable, not half as singular as coral

formations."

"What are they?"

"Don't tell me you know nothing of coral!"

"I believe I have seen it, but that is all."

"Coral is made by wonderful little animals who live and die in its cells

until their structures are big enough for islands; but I will leave that

to Knops: my plan is not to cram."

CHAPTER X

"Well," said Leo, "you are not going to stop, I hope."

"Oh no," said Paz, cheerfully, "I can spin yarns with any sailor. What

will you have now?"

"Something funny."

"I wish I could oblige you, but fun is not my strong point. I went from

Greenland to the South Seas one day in search of a laugh, but I failed

to find it; indeed I came near doing worse, for in getting into the hoop

of a native's nose-ring for a swing--just by way of a new sensation--I

forgot to make myself invisible, and he caught me, thought I was a

spider, and would have crushed me, had not a baby put out its little

hands in glee to play with me. I can assure you I was for a time averse

to trying new sensations."

"How did you get out of your scrape?"

"I travelled down that baby's back in a hurry, and hid in an ant-hill;

he poked about with his little black fingers for a quarter of an hour,

but he did not find me. Ah, those were the days of my youth!"

"Do you ever have anything to do with witches?"

"Mark my words, ghosts and witches live only in the imagination of silly

human beings. We useful people scorn them. Now imps might be said to

belong to the same family were it not for the proofs we have of their

existence. They are everlastingly getting children into trouble by

suggesting things to them they never would have thought of--"

"Such as what?"

"Do you suppose I am going to tell you? No, indeed; they can do it fast

enough for themselves. Persons who take too much wine are their most

constant companions; they pounce upon them and twitch and tease and

torment them until the poor wine-bibber trembles from head to foot. They

won't let him sleep or eat or think, and fairly drive him crazy. Oh,

imps are really to be dreaded! But I must now begin my second story."

PAZ'S SECOND STORY

"There was to be a grand birthday festival among the Fays, who inhabit

the tropics. The wind fairies had brought us news of it as well as

urgent invitations for our royal family to be present; but so deeply

engrossed was our King at that moment in supplying the oil wells of

Pennsylvania with petroleum that he could not absent himself. The Queen

never goes from home without her liege lord.

"The princes and princesses were all too young, and could not be allowed

to leave their lessons; so the regrets were inscribed on lotus leaves,

and sent by special messenger--a bird of the Cypselina family. He was a

great sooty-black fellow, with a tinge of green in his feathers,

strong, well able to fly, as his family generally do from America to

Asia. But the gift could not be intrusted to him. I was chosen as bearer

of that.

"Much discussion had taken place as to what this gift should be. It was

desirable that nothing ordinary should be offered, for the Fays are, as

a rule, fastidious. Gems they possess in abundance. Flowers are so

common that their beds are made of them. Their books are 'the running

brooks,' and their art treasures hang on every bough. The Queen had

woven a veil of lace with her own fingers; it was filmy and exquisite,

but my heart sank within me when she declared that nothing less than a

wreath of snow-flakes must accompany it. To obtain this wreath and carry

it to the Fays as a birthday gift was to be my duty.

"How should I accomplish it? I dared not suggest the difficulties, for

at once I should have been displaced, and another elf chosen for the

performance of this arduous task. Besides, if it could be accomplished

by any one, I must be that person, having always been unwilling ever to

allow difficulties to deter me from any duty. Pride of the right sort

is a great help. I went to the frost-workers and told them what I

wanted. They said they could imitate any flower; but the Queen had

expressly said that the wreath must be of snow-flakes. Now the fantastic

impulse of a snow-storm is well known, but it is not so generally known

that there is a scientific accuracy even in the formation of

snow-flakes."

Here Paz stopped, shook his head, smiled, and said, "I do believe I am

as bad as Knops."

"Please go on," said Leo.

"Well, you must forgive me, for I shall have to tell you that the

frost-workers said there were no less than a thousand different forms

among the crystals of which snow-flakes are made.

"Now how could I tell what pattern to choose? It was impossible; so I

told them I should have nothing to do with the pattern. 'Make the

wreath,' said I, 'box it, and I will carry it, or die in the attempt.'

"They did so. The crystals were more beautiful than diamond stars. They

put it in a solid square of ice, which was packed in charcoal and straw,

and then cased in cocoa matting. To this I attached cords, and slung it

about my neck. The veil, in a satin case half an inch square, was in my

wallet.

"I started in the track of the marten that carried the despatches, but

changed my course many times, striving to keep in cold currents.

Finding, however, that as I neared the Equator this was impossible, I

took to the sea, and went down to its highway. Of course I had on

garments impervious to water--that is to say, water-proof--and my wallet

was as dry as a bone; but not being in the habit of travelling under

ocean, my eyes were a little affected by the salt, and I became

conscious that I was being followed.

"Fishes, you know, are not down on the hard rocky bed of the sea, and I

had passed the homes of mermen, so I was puzzled to know who could be my

enemy. I would not so much as betray my fears by looking behind, and I

had enough to do in looking forward, for at every other step there were

fissures which had to be leaped, deep abysses to be avoided, chasms to

be crossed, and sands which might ingulf me.

"Still, as I struggled on, I could hear the sound of other feet

following mine, now nearing me, now farther away, as my speed asserted

itself. It made me shiver to think what might be my fate, and I can

honestly say that the thought of failing to fulfill my errand bore as

heavily upon me as the sense of personal dangers; for it is a great

thing to be trusted, to be looked upon as honest and true, and deemed

capable of transacting affairs even of small moment.

"But this was not a trifling matter. The neglect to deliver this gift

could bring about serious trouble. The Fays were our friends, and

friendship is never to be slighted. It is not kind to allow selfish

matters to stand in the way when we are bidden to a joyous celebration,

and had not our King felt that the claims of man were more urgent than

those of the Fays he would have attended this feast in person. As he

could not, the gift was to represent him. I trust I have made it clear

to you."

"Quite so," said Leo. "But I am crazy to know who was following you."

"So was I at that time, and I resolved to get into the first empty shell

I could find where I might hide. There was soon an opportunity. A heap

of cast-off shells presented itself, and I popped into an enormous crab

cover, where I waited for my unknown companion to overtake me.

"As the steps came near I peeped carefully out, and what should I see

but an ugly South American river-wolf, about three and a half feet long,

with a short, close fur of a bright ruddy yellow. I could not imagine

what had brought him after me, but the ways of the wicked are often

difficult to explain. There he was, and if once he could get me within

reach I was lost. On he came, snuffing and barking like a dog, making my

very hair stand on end. I waited for him to pass, but I think his

instinct must have told him I had paused, for he began to turn over the

shells with his ugly nose, as if searching for something. My single

weapon was a small dirk, as we kill only in self-defence.

"Bracing myself against the wall of my slight shelter, I stood in

expectation of an assault, and I had not long to wait. With an angry cry

he rushed upon me. His size seemed to me enormous, but my little knife

was a trusty blade, and with a great effort I drew it across his

dreadful throat.

"I will not dwell on these particulars. I had overcome my enemy. I

resumed my journey, and soon came to a region of the most beautiful

water-plants growing in greatest profusion. I knew by these that I was

not far from the home of the Fays.

"I neglected to tell you that before starting out the chief frost-worker

had given me a small vial of clear liquid, which, in case of any danger

from heat, I was to use for the preservation of the snow-wreath. In my

tussle with the wolf this vial must have become partly uncorked, for I

became aware of a strong odor diffusing itself about me, and an

overpowering sleepiness getting the better of me. I had drawn the bottle

out, recorked it, and put it away again; but this was no sooner done

than I fell in a sleepy swoon on the roadside.

"I have no idea how long I slept: there is neither day nor night down

there, only a dim sort of twilight, which at times becomes illuminated

by the phosphorescent rays of fishes, or the fitful gleam of ocean

glow-worms. I was startled from my swoon by a rattling, dragging noise,

and came very near being scooped up by an uncouth-looking iron thing

which was attached to a cable. It flashed upon me, stupid as I was, that

this must be a deep-sea dredge; and as I was not at all inclined to be

hauled up on shipboard, in a lot of mud and shells as a rare specimen of

the sea, I got as quickly out of the way as possible.

"But it was now time for me to get on _terra firma,_ as Knops would say,

or dry land, as I prefer to put it. Among the beautiful vermilion leaves

or tentacles of the curious half animals and half flowers I observed a

vine not unlike the honeysuckle, only of tougher fibre. On this I

clambered up to take a look about me, and discovered that I was much

nearer shore than I supposed. Hardly had I done this when, to my horror,

I saw the arms of an octopus stretching towards me, its horid beak

projecting from between its ugly eyes. More alarmed than at any previous

danger, I strove to retain my self-command, but the fearful creature was

already touching me. Remembering, with wits sharpened by distress, the

effect of the drug in my little bottle, I drew out the cork, and making

a sudden lunge, dashed the ether in its face--if you can so call any

part of its disgusting head.

"Instantly it lost all power over its members, curled up in a writhing,

wriggling mass, and I with a bound reached the sandy shore."

CHAPTER XI

Paz, taking a long breath, and looking at Leo to see the effect of his

narrative, went on:

"It was quite time for me to be on land, for in the moonlight, which

bathed everything in silver, were to be seen troops of fays hurrying to

the festival. Some sailed along the shore in mussel shells, others were

on the backs of black swans whose bills looked like coral, and others

were skimming along with their own gauzy wings, or lolling luxuriously

on the feathers of flamingoes.

"I joined the ones on foot, and with them reached the plantation, which

presented a scene of great brilliancy. Gold and silver ferns hedged the

rose-leaf path which led to the bower of beauty; on every leaf were

myriads of fireflies, and glowing from higher plants bearing many-hued

flowers were Brazilian beetles. Plunging into the thicket, I made a

hasty toilet at a brook-side, and then rejoined the advancing guests.

The bell-bird could be heard clearly summoning our approach, while

sweetest warblers poured out their melody. The throne was formed of the

Santo-Spirito flowers, and beneath the wings of its dove-like calyx was

the lovely fay in whose honor was all this gayety, surrounded by her

young companions.

"Approaching quickly, I unstrapped my package, took the satin case from

my pocket, and fell upon my knees in the customary manner; perceiving

which, the beautiful being motioned for me to rise, and with the most

unassuming grace received my burden. As she unfolded the lace from its

silken cover a cry of delight escaped her, and shaking out its gossamer

folds she threw it over her head. With all the care I could use I had

laid bare the block of ice, which shone like silver in the moonbeams,

and now with a sudden blow of my dagger I cleft the ice, and lifted out

the wreath, placing it as I did so on the head of the fay.

"There was no time for ceremony. Had I waited to pass it from hand to

hand of the attendants it would have been gone. There was a hush over

all as I crowned the fay. Each snowy star stood out in perfect beauty.

She alone could not see its peerless charm. But I had provided for this.

Chipping off a thin layer of the ice-block, I laid a silver-lined leaf

from a neighboring bough behind it, and held this mirror before the

fay's wondering eyes. Never have I seen anything so beautiful or so

fleeting. Even as I held the reflected image before its reality, drops

as of dew began falling over the lace, and in a moment the wreath was

gone.

"Like a little child robbed of a treasure, the look of wonder and

delight gave place to one of bewildered disappointment. She turned a

questioning gaze upon me.

"'Alas!' said I, 'most sovereign lady, 'tis not in elfin power to

reproduce this wreath; it was the emblem of human life, as brief, as

fleeting. My Queen desired me to bring it. I have met with great

difficulties in so doing, but none has saddened me like your

disappointment.'

"With eager sweetness she bade her cavaliers respond. They assured me of

her gratitude and delight, and bade me welcome. The warbling birds again

started their liquid strains, and a mazy dance began which resembled a

fluttering band of snowy butterflies tangled in a silvery web. Slipping

off, I came to the side of a lake on which were boats and Indian canoes

of the moccasin flower. Here I rested, watching the measures of the

dance, and taking little refreshing sips of cocoa-nut milk. A

swift-winged night-hawk having been placed at my disposal, I had a safe

and speedy journey home."

"And is that all?" inquired Leo.

"Yes," said Paz, "for here comes Master Knops."

Leo thanked Paz warmly, and turned towards Knops, who, with hat in hand,

stood gravely waiting to speak.

"Is it the wish of Prince Leo to make further explorations, or will he

now return to his father and his home?"

With some self-reproach at having quite forgotten that he had a father

and a home, Leo said he was ready to return.

"And may his humble servants, the distinguished savant Paz and the

Master Professor Knops, have the pleasant assurance of Prince Leo's

satisfaction at this visit?" asked Knops, still in the most formal

manner.

"I cannot thank you half as I should like to do," replied Leo, "but I

hope to be able to show you that your entertainment and instruction have

not been wasted."

"Come, then, we will go."

"Adieu," said Paz. "Look out for me some fine frosty night when you are

skating. You may think you see some of your furry friends startled out

of their winter sleep, but just give a whistle, and say 'Paz,' and I

will be with you."

"Good-bye," said Leo. "I hope it will be soon that I shall see you."

But Knops was off and he had to follow. Away they went, climbing and

clambering, slipping and sliding, crawling and jumping, through forests

of coal, over mines of iron, and beside walls glittering with silver.

Presently, however, Leo found himself where they had started from, viz.,

his own cellar door, and Knops preparing to leave him. Dropping his

ceremonious manner, he said:

"I am sorry to bid you farewell, my dear boy; I have become heartily

interested in you and your welfare. The only souvenir I have to offer is

this little compass; it is a mere trifle, but the needle has the power

of finding precious metals. Learn how to make it useful. Good-bye."

Leo found himself alone. He pushed open the cellar door, and mounted the

steps to the kitchen. It was early morning, and the cocks were crowing

lustily. The one old deaf woman was striving to make a fire burn, but

the wood was wet and she found it difficult.

"Where are all the people?" shouted Leo in her ear, for he well knew her

infirmity.

"Gone--all gone," she answered.

"And my father, where is he?"

"In bed yet, and he had better stay there, for I've no breakfast for

him."

Leo suspected what was the matter. Taking a basket from a peg, and a

bowl from the dresser, he went out into the fields. Everything was

sodden with the rain, but the birds were singing with all their might;

those that were not were repairing the ravages of the storm.

"Even the birds are busy at their nests," thought Leo; "everything,

every creature, has its work to do. Shall I alone be idle? Never."

Putting aside the wet boughs, which sprinkled him well, he sought an old

tree-trunk for its store of honey. Filling his bowl with this, and his

basket with fresh eggs, he returned to the monastery. Here he helped the

old woman with the fire, and between them they soon had the kettle

steaming. The tray with his father's breakfast was made ready, and with

his own hands he took it to him.

"Leo, my long-lost son," exclaimed Morpheus at sight of him, "where have

you spent the night?"

"In Dream-land," was Leo's reply; and then, without preface, he asked of

his parent the privilege of looking over his accounts, and doing what he

could to assist him in his difficulties. Morpheus smiled indifferently,

but gave Leo his keys, with permission to do as he pleased.

All the morning Leo puzzled his brain examining books and papers, with

little result. Then he saddled his horse, rode into the nearest town,

and sought a lawyer whom his father knew. To him he related their

grievances, telling him that he was sure their property, well managed,

could be made to yield handsome returns, and informing him of his

wonderful compass, which could indicate the presence of minerals. The

lawyer was not very sanguine, but he put a young clerk in charge of the

matter, who, becoming much interested, looked up his residence at the

monastery, and went to work with diligence. Under his guidance Leo

studied and strove to regain their former prosperity. Laborers were

eager to resume their duties as soon as they saw the prospect of

payment. Crops became abundant. By the aid of Leo's compass--which was

only a scientific novelty yet to be discovered--mines were opened and

vast wealth displayed.

And Leo had become a different lad. No longer idle and careless, with

slow and lingering tread, he was now alert, vigorous, and manly. The

servants were glad to return and obey his wishes. The monastery was

rebuilt and repaired. Lawns and gardens were in trim array. Warm

tapestries and curtains lined the bare walls and windows, while ivy and

rose clambered without.

Even Morpheus, roused from his invalidism, rewrote his poems, sent them

to a publisher, and favored all his friends with copies bound in blue

velvet, with his monogram in silver on the covers. His pride in his son

became so great that at Leo's request he undertook to renew the library,

and the time that he had spent in bed was devoted to the step-ladder. It

was in this way he discovered that their name had been incorrectly

written. For his own part he did not care to make any change, but he

insisted that Leo should use the portion omitted, which an old copy of

the Doomsday-book had revealed to him, and sign himself in full, "Leo

Sans Lazybones."

Christmas was approaching; not a green Christmas, but an icy, snowy,

frozen one, with holly wreaths on his shoulders and a plum-pudding in

his hands.

The monastery was full of guests, relatives of Morpheus. These guests

were all poor--in one way--but they had a wealth of their own which made

them delightful to Leo. They were poets and painters and scribblers, and

as merry as larks; and as they all admired each others productions,

there was no end of cheerful nonsense. The children, however, were the

brightest of all. Each child was as merry as it was lovely, and the

painters were almost frantic in their efforts to make Christmas cards of

them, while the poets cudgelled their brains for rhymes.

To prevent too much industry in that way, Leo had induced them all to

put on their skates on Christmas-eve, and glide over the frozen ponds,

while he made ready the tree which stood in the great hall.

It was an immense spruce, all powdered with silvery fringe, and Leo had

only to tie on the little gilt tags numbered to correspond with the

packages of gifts, which were heaped on surrounding tables, and fasten

on the candles of red and blue wax. When this was done he put on his own

skates, for it was yet too early to light the tree, and away he went

skimming after the shouting, laughing crowd of friends and relatives.

Suddenly a squirrel darted from its hole, and went scudding across the

river. Leo started in pursuit, giving a low whistle. Instantly it

stopped, sat upon its haunches, threw off its skin, and out stepped Paz.

"Good-evening, my dear Prince, good-evening; we are well met; just in

time to exchange Christmas greetings. I have been looking for you

lately, but you seemed always so occupied that there was no chance for

me. You have no idea how pleased Knops is to hear of your prosperity. He

has sent for me a dozen times lately merely to express his satisfaction;

and he wants me to ask a favor of you, which I know already you will

grant."

"Anything in my power, dear Paz," replied Leo, eagerly.

"Of course; and we know how good a use you make of your power. Times

are greatly changed. You are benefiting every one about you; I hear it

on all sides. We are proud to be your friends. All that Knops asks is

that in clearing up your property, and cutting down all the rank growth

of weeds, you will spare a patch of wild-flowers here and there, and all

the empty birds' nests. Leave these for the use of our children, and we

will be greatly obliged."

"But that is a mere nothing; can I in any other way serve you?" asked

Leo.

"No," said Paz, "not that I know of. I am on my way now to see some new

minerals supposed to be similar to those of the moon. I haven't much

faith in them."

"How about the diamonds?"

"Don't mention them. I shall never try my hand at those again; and you,

if you are wise, will be contented to let Nature remain her own chemist.

Adieu. A very merry Christmas to you."

"The same to you," echoed Leo, but Paz was already muffled in his furs

and running rapidly away.

PHIL'S FAIRIES

CHAPTER I

THE WIND HARP

"Oh, Lisa, how many stars there are to-night! and how long it takes to

count just a few!" said a weak voice from a little bed in a garret room.

"You will tire yourself, dear, if you try to do that; just shut your

eyes up tight, and try to sleep."

"Will you put my harp in the window? there may be a breeze after a

while, and I want to know very much if there is any music in those

strings."

"Where did you get them, my darling,"

"From Joe."

"Joe, the fiddler?"

"Yes; he brought me a handful of old catgut; he says he does not play

any more at dances; he is so old and lame that they like a younger

darkey who knows more fancy figures, and can be livelier. He _is_ very

black, Lisa, and I am almost afraid of him; but he is so kind, and he

tells me stories about his young days, and all the gay people he used to

see. Hark! that is my harp; oh, Lisa, is it not heavenly?"

"I don't know," said poor, tired Lisa, half asleep, after her long day's

work of standing in a shop.

Phil's harp was a shallow box, across which he had fastened some violin

strings rather loosely; and Phil himself was an invalid boy who had

never known what it was to be strong and hardy, able to romp and run, or

leap and shout. He had neither father nor mother, but no one could have

loved him more or have been any gentler or more considerate than was

Lisa--poor, plain Lisa--who worked early and late to pay for Phil's

lodging in the top of the old house where they lived, and whose whole

earthly happiness consisted in making Phil happy and comfortable. It was

not always easy to do this, for Phil was a strange child; aside from the

pain that he suffered, he had odd fancies and strange likings, the

result of his illness and being so much alone. And Lisa could not always

understand him, for she lived among other people--rough, plain, careless

people, for whom she toiled, and who had no such thoughts as Phil had.

From the large closet that served as her bedroom Lisa often heard Phil

talking, talking, talking, now to this thing, now to that, as if it were

real and had a personality; sometimes his words were addressed to a

rose-bush she had brought him, or the pictures of an old volume she had

found on a stall of cheap books at a street corner, or the little

plaster cast that an image-seller had coaxed her to purchase. Then,

again, he would converse, with his knife and fork or plate, ask them

where they came from, how they were made, and of what material. No

answer coming, he would invent all sorts of answers, making them reply

in his own words.

Lisa was so used to these imaginary conversations that they did not seem

strange to her.

Phil had, too, a passion for music, and would listen intently to the

commonest strains of a hand-organ, and Lisa had given him a little toy

harmonica, from which he would draw long, sweet tones and chords with

much satisfaction.

Old Joe, who blackened boots for some of the lodgers, had heard the

child's attempts at music, and had brought his violin and played for

him. One day, happening to leave it for a while on the window-ledge,

Phil's quick ear had detected a low vibration from the instrument. This

circumstance, and something he had read about a wind harp, had given him

the wish to make one--with what success he was anxious to find out, when

Lisa laid it in the open window for him.

A soft south wind was blowing, and, as Phil spoke, it had stirred the

loose strings of the rude Aeolian harp, and a slight melodious sound had

arisen, which Phil had thought so beautiful. He drew his breath even

more softly, lest he should lose the least tone, and finding that Lisa

was really asleep, propped himself up higher on his pillows, and gazed

out at the starlit heavens.

He often talked to the stars, but very softly and wonderingly, and

somehow he could never find any answers that suited him; but to-night,

as the breeze made a low soft music come from his wind harp, filling him

with delight, it seemed to him that a voice was accompanying the melody,

and that the stars had something to do with it; for, as he gazed, he saw

a troop of little beings with gauzy wings fluttering over the

window-ledge, and upon the brow of each twinkled a tiny star, and the

leading one of all this bevy of wee people sang:

"Come from afar,

Here we are! here we are!

From you Silver Star,

Fays of the Wind,

To children kind."

"How lovely they are!" thought Phil. "And so these really are fairies. I

never saw any before. They have wings like little white butterflies, and

how tiny their hands and feet, and what graceful motions they have as

they dance over my harp! They seem to be examining it to find out where

the music comes from; but no, of course they know all about it. I wonder

if they would talk to me?"

"Of course we will be very glad to," said a soft little voice in reply

to his thoughts.

"I was afraid I would frighten you away if I spoke," said Phil, gently.

"Oh no," replied the fairy who had addressed him; "we are in the habit

of talking to children, though they do not always know it."

"And what do you tell them?" asked Phil, eagerly.

"All sorts of nice things."

"Do you tell them all they want to know?"

"Oh no," laughed the fairy, with a silvery little voice like a

canary-bird's. "We cannot do that, for we do not know enough to be able

to: some children are much wiser than we. I dare say you are."

"Indeed I am not," said Phil, a little sadly; "there are so many things

that puzzle me. I thought that perhaps, as you came from the stars, you

knew something of astronomy."

"What a long, long word that is!" laughed the fairy again. "But we are

wind fairies; and yet the Father of the Winds is called Astraeus: that

sounds something like your long word, does it not?"

"It sounds more like Astrea, and that means a star."

"Why, where did you learn so much?"

"I saw it in a big book called a dictionary."

"Another long word. Doesn't your head ache?"

"Sometimes, not now. I have not any books now, except picture-books."

"Did you ever have?"

"Oh yes; when papa was living we had books and pictures and many

beautiful things; but there was a great fire, and all sorts of trouble,

and now I have only Lisa. But Lisa does not understand as papa did; it

was he showed me that word in the dictionary."

"Oh, don't say that great ugly word again! Shall I tell my friends to

make some more music?"

"Yes, please."

The wind fairy struck her little hands together, and waved her wings. In

a moment the little white troop danced over the strings of the harp, and

brought out sweet, wild strains, that made Phil nearly cry for joy. They

seemed to be dancing as they did it, for they would join hands and sway

to and fro; then, parting, they wound in and out in graceful,

wreath-like motions, and the tiny stars on their foreheads flashed like

diamonds. Up and down they went, the length of the strings, then across,

then back again; and all the time the sweet wild music kept vibrating.

"How lovely! how lovely!" said Phil, when there was a pause.

"I am so glad you like it! we often make music for people, and they

hardly hear it," said the fairy.

"I do not see how they can help hearing," said Phil.

"Why, I'll tell you how: we frequently are in the tree-tops, or whirling

about low bushes; every soft breeze that blows has some of our music in

it, for there are many of us; and yet very few people pay attention to

these sounds."

"When the wind screams and roars in winter, is it you, then, who does

that too?" asked Phil.

"Oh no," said the fairy, rustling her wings in some displeasure. "We are

of the South Wind only, and have no such rude doings; I hope I may never

have any work to do for the North Wind, he is so blustery. Now it is

time you went to sleep, and we cannot stay longer, for if the moon rises

we cannot see our star-beams, and might lose our way. We will just fan

you a little, and you will soon be in Dream-land."

As she spoke, Phil saw her beckon to her troupe, and they all flocked

about him, dazzling him so with their starry coronets that he was forced

to shut his eyes, and as he closed them he felt a gentle wafting as of a

hundred little wings about his forehead, and in another moment he was

asleep.